


Tomorrows

by sirius



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Crack, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius/pseuds/sirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written in 2008 and includes crossovers and general zaniness.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2008 and includes crossovers and general zaniness.

Dawn is breaking by the time he returns. He makes swift work of the drainpipe, the sun rising in the windows as he passes by. Luckily, he remember to leave his open. It doesn't take much to shove it all the way but doing so disturbs a plant pot onto the floor. Cursing, he hauls himself through the open window and rolls down onto the carpet amongst the soil. Still. It's better than being caught sneaking through the shop. 

Kicking the granules under the bed, he hauls his shirt off and collapses onto the bed. Two hours of shut-eye, better than nothing. His sleep is punctuated with dreaming; dreams of things that came before this life, of spinning silhouettes in the dark and somebody's kiss warm on his mouth.

 

“I still don't get why we have to train them,” Jin grumbles, Kame standing in his doorway. He's holding out Jin's shirt and for a second, Jin thinks he's going to help him into it. No such luck – Kame moreorless throws it at him when he's done with his jeans. 

“Please don't whine today,” Kame says. “We have enough to think about.”

“I'm not,” Jin says, buttoning. “I'm just saying. Persia is paid all this money and he can't even train his own assassins?”

“Maybe it's best that we do it,” Kame says. “They'll fit in better with the team. One of them's young, inexperienced. Don't you remember being a kid?”

“No,” Jin snaps. “What's the point?”

Kame looks at him for a long moment, so long that Jin has to look away, it's that painful. Setting his jaw, Kame nods, just once, and turns on his heel. 

“Be downstairs in five minutes,” he says, not even looking back. 

“Yes, sir,” Jin says, under his breath.

 

“Hey,” Koki says, sidling up to Jin as he treks, yawning, down into the basement. “You got in late last night.”

Kame shoots them a look and Jin ignores it. “Big night,” he says. 

“You could've invited me,” Koki says. 

“I will next time, if you want,” Jin says. “Sorry. It wasn't really a guy's night, if you get what I mean.”

“We _all_ get what you mean,” Kame says. “You're not exactly subtle.”

“You don't get to tell me what I do on my time off,” Jin snarls. “You could use a little loosening up, yourself.”

“I'm fine,” Kame says, icily. “I have better ways of having fun.”

“Good for you,” Jin says. 

Junno, sitting in the corner, worries on his lower lip. “Guys, please,” he says. “We're keeping...he's waiting.”

Kame follows his eyes towards the large screen, to the silhouette of a man that dominates it. The man they call Persia; the man who feels familiar, who Kame can't quite pinpoint. He's worked for this nameless face for nearly two years and still not moved any closer to solving the mystery. They've stopped talking about it, amongst themselves. Kame thought they got on badly as KAT-TUN; things are so different now. Everything is different now.

“Team,” the man says. “We have a new mission.”

Images fill the screen in quick succession. Pictures of victims; grotesquely laid out in lines. A serial who kills more than one at a time. Each corpse glassy-eyed, each with off-white skin. The life quite literally drained out of them. Their eyes are open as if startled by something but their mouths are solid, firm, shut. There is no colour in the pupils. No colour in them at all. 

“We need to find out who is behind this,” the man says. “The killer attacks many people at once. As you can see, he's using some sort of device which drains colour out of the body. Your job is to find out how, and why, and to stop it. Before more people die.”

“We haven't seen anything like this,” Jin says, backwards on his chair. He's staring at the screen with an incredulous look on his face. “Where do we even start?”

“We believe that the killer is stealing energy. If our hunch is correct, our analysts will be able to track parts of the city with high levels of this type of resource. That information will be with you as soon as possible. In the meantime, we need you to investigate the location of these latest killings. Each attack has taken place in a nightclub-”

Jin snorts. “It's always a nightclub,” he says. 

“You should feel at home,” Kame interrupts. 

“Perhaps because of the high volume of people present. The killer may feel he can do significant damage. Go to the following address and search for clues. You'll be updated when we know more. Do you accept this mission?”

Junno, typing away, just nods. Koki is pale, arms folded as if a defiant look can hide it. He nods, too. Kame looks at Jin, who shrugs. There's a moment of harmony, of the mutual determination that started this team so well – and both of them say yes together. 

“Then go ahead,” Persia says. “And deny these dark beasts their tomorrows.”

 

“He's worse than Johnny ever was,” Jin says, as they leave. Koki is rubbing his knuckles and looking at Junno; Junno remains behind to monitor the situation. They're all equipped with communication devices. Despite himself, Jin's nervous. The supernatural missions always get to him. 

“Can't you take that hair down?” Kame says. “We're supposed to be blending in.”

Koki looks at Kame, at his tall frame, his piercing way of looking at people, and decides not to say anything. Jin narrows his eyes. 

“Can't,” he says. “It's semi-permanent. Anyway, it's Tokyo. Everything's weird in Tokyo.”

“The trainees,” Koki says. “They're going to meet us there?”

“Yes,” Kame says. “God help them. One's a university student. Or, was.”

“Fuck,” Jin says. “I can't remember being young.”

“Me neither,” Kame says. They pause, in the doorway and Kame lifts his hand to Jin's shoulder. 

“I wish you wouldn't go out,” he says, as Koki passes. 

Jin looks at him, reflective, quiet. “You'd stay in with me?”

Kame sets his face in a line, the vulnerability in his eyes like a dying bulb. There, but only just. It's fallen quiet over the years. 

“Thought so,” Jin says.

 

“I'm Nakamaru,” Nakamaru says. He looks normal. Not like an assassin at all. Jin wonders whether Persia is winding them up, sending somebody so regular to join the team. Nakamaru doesn't seem to have anything going for him.

“Nakamura,” Jin says. “What's your skill?”

“Nakamaru,” Nakamaru corrects. “I have this ability to, well. Promise you won't laugh?”

“Not much to laugh about,” Kame says. “This is a serious mission.”

“I can hypnotize people,” Nakamaru says. “It's just about vocal manipulation. Certain sounds can induce a trance-like state in certain people-”

Jin is nodding, slowly. “Tell me you've something else. A mean right hook? Anything?”

“I'm good with my fists,” the other man says. He's short, delicate, only he has biceps like thighs.

“That's more like it,” Jin says. 

“I'm Ueda,” the man says, almost as if it's irrelevant. 

“Don't we have to have pseudonyms?” Nakamaru says. 

“Eh,” Kame says. “They're running out of cats now.”

“Oh,” Nakamaru says. “Well, we'll do our best with what we've got. That's the spirit of it, right?”

“Spirit of it,” Jin repeats. “Is just to not get killed. You better be ready.”

 

Jin hates reconnaissance missions. So often they don't know what they're looking for, and with their minds slow and steady Kame has plenty of opportunity to nail him about last night's whereabouts. It's none of Kame's business but sometimes Jin looks forward to it. In a weird way, when Kame's paying attention to him it's better than apathy, than dismissal. It shows that somebody cares.

“I just think,” Kame says. “That it's unprofessional to work on so little sleep.”

Jin snorts. “Bullshit,” he says. “You didn't sleep last night, either.”

Kame looks up, startled. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Your light was on when I got back,” Jin says. 

A moment passes between them and Jin knows, instinctively, to keep his voice down. Kame doesn't want anybody else to know that their leader, the one they all put their trust in, doesn't sleep. Jin can't blame him. 

“It's only been this week,” Kame says. “I can't help it.”

“It's hard to sleep,” Jin says. “In this job. You should try drinking.”

“No thanks,” Kame says. “I'd rather be able to get up in the mornings.”

Tapping his earlobe, he adds, “Junno. Have you found out any information about the energy location yet?”

“A few locations,” Junno replies. “I'm cross-referencing them with the nightclubs where the recent attacks have occurred. I'll let you know if I find anything.”

“What are we looking for, here,” Koki says. “It's just full of glowsticks, cigarette packets. Maru's found a bra.”

Jin inspects the underside of the bar whilst Kame shrugs. “Keep looking,” he says. “If there's anything to find, it'll be here.”

“There's fragments of glass under here,” Jin says. 

“Under a bar?” Ueda says. “Well, that's hardly surprising-”

Kame goes around to look. Crouching to his knees, he picks up a few pieces, rolls them around in his palm. His hands are covered, black gloves, standard issue. Jin tries to remember the last time he saw his hands. The last time he saw Kame, without a sword in his hand, a dagger in his mouth. Everything about Kame is sharp, now. 

“It's not glass,” he says. “That's not glass. It's something – I don't know. Jin?”

Jin looks at a piece in the dim light, shakes his head. “I don't know,” he says. “Crystal, maybe. It's gotta be something.”

“You're clutching at straws,” Ueda says. Koki looks up from behind the jukebox, glares at him. 

“Stop being like that,” he says. “Least they've found something. You never know what could be useful.”

“Kame,” Junno says, and to his credit, Kame manages not to jump. He drops the pieces into Jin's hand, and Jin crunches them up. They fall to the floor as dust, a shimmering cascade. Kame watches them, eyes dark. 

“He's pinpointed the next target,” Kame says. “Based on proximity to energy levels. There's a new club just opened near the warehouse he's storing the energy in. We need to go.”

 

When they get to the club, it's full of the kind of people Jin despises, now. Rich girls, men without direction or goals in their lives. Just drinking and dancing and fucking all night. No life, no understanding of anything except hedonism. People spurred on by their own instincts, primal needs – nobody thinking anymore. Nobody caring.

A part of him envies it, so much he can't speak. 

The people in the club carry crystals as they move past them, eyes lifeless, limbs uncoordinated. Kame watches them with a sense of pity but he doesn't speak. Merely looks at Jin and nods.

“Crystals,” Jin agrees. “We have to destroy them.”

That's the simple part. There's six of them and the owners of the crystals don't seem bothered about losing them. As the six of them run around, crushing the stones between their palms, the club seems to come to life against once more. Dust on the floor rises in swarms of colour, lighting up their faces once again. There's music, noise, laughter. Only a buzz in the centre of the club, banal and low, keeps Jin's mind on the task ahead.

A woman sits under the lights. She wears white, her head bowed. She doesn't speak or lift her face, even when they approach. 

“What did you use these for?” Kame asks. His hands are on his waist, he's prepared to draw a sword. Jin walks around the back of her chair, watching. It feels too easy. It always does, but this – this is different. His watch feels tight around his wrist. 

She doesn't speak. Kame roars, something, something Jin had long forgotten in Kame. The sound startles him, takes him back to rehearsals and parties and press conferences, shops and stages and bright lights on his face. So long ago. 

She spreads her arms out wide as she rises to her feet. The people in the club slide to the floor, little undulations of submission. They spread out like dead fish, white and limp and wet. Still, she does not speak. In her hands there are crystals and she holds her arms out to Kame--

Jin sends the wire flying around, tying her body to the chair. Ineffectual but he can't get a better angle, and Kame's quick with a sword, now, quicker than he used to be, in the beginning. No more scars anymore. He whips the blade through her body without thinking about it, without a second glance. He used to stop to think but now he understands that it's a luxury, to pause. Nothing happens. She continues to move, to close in on him. Her arms want to embrace him and the crystals gleam in the light. 

“Her hands,” Jin says, only it sounds like a whisper, barely heard at all. Kame's head doesn't turn, his eyes don't move. He's looking at her as if she's a tower of water, come to wash him away. Jin says it again, and again, and again, and again, until his vision goes back. 

 

He wakes up in his bedroom. There's cold hot chocolate on the bedside and his throat feels hoarse, rough. 

“Kame,” he says. “Kame-”

“I'm here,” Kame says. He's sitting on Jin's dressing table, feet propped up on his bed. So unlike him. So unlike anything Kame would ever have done, sitting on furniture. The man who once complained about the misuse of a cup. 

“Fuck,” Jin says. “Fuck, I had the most horrible-- are you alright? What happened?”

“You fainted,” Kame says. 

“I know,” Jin says. “I couldn't help it. She drained the life out of me.”

“I wasn't accusing you,” Kame says. “I'm alright. Everyone's alright. You were right, about her hands.”

“You heard me.”

“You were really loud,” Kame says. “It would've been hard not to.”

“It sounded quiet to me,” Jin says. “It sounded like I was whispering.”

“She drained the life out of you,” Kame says. “It was good thinking. You stopped her, before anything could happen. It was a good job.”

“Did Persia tell you to say that?”

“Yes,” Kame says. “But I agree.”

“Kame,” Jin says. “Can't you say anything to me that isn't about work?”

The street is dark outside. Beneath the room, Jin can hear Koki moving the plant pots outside; it's due to rain tomorrow. The air is muggy with it. Good for the flowers. Good for business. Good for their cover-up, their big mess of pretending. Good for washing their world clean. 

“You wanted me to stay with you,” Kame says. 

“Yeah?” Jin says. 

“Well,” Kame says. “Here I am.”

“You know all that talking he does,” Jin says. “About tomorrows? When's ours going to come?”

Kame looks at the clock on the wall, as if answering the question could take an hour or two days. His brow furrows; he's unsure. So rarely unsure. 

“Say you don't know,” Jin says. 

“Why?” Kame says. “What good does that do you?”

“I want somebody else to be unsure,” Jin says. “Not to know what the hell's going on. I want it not to be just me.”

“Okay,” Kame says. “I don't know.”

“Can you stay with me?” Jin says. “Be with me?”

Kame smiles. “Do you want another 'I don't know'?”

Jin pauses, scrunches the blanket up in one hand. “No,” he says. “I want the truth.”

“Then as far as I'm concerned,” Kame says. “I'm here until tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that, and after that, and after that. Until either this makes sense, or it ends. Whichever happens first.”

“You think we'll get another chance?”

“Sure,” Kame says. “Things will look better in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Kame says. “Tomorrow.”


End file.
